


yellow paint

by Rilaya



Series: nct sad shit [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (at times), Angst, Clubbing, Eating Disorders, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, M/M, Mental Health Issues, best friend ten to the rescue, lapslock, taeyong is very... frowny face
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rilaya/pseuds/Rilaya
Summary: the hallways, instead of being stark white like one would imagine, are instead a pale shade of yellow, and if you think hard enough, you may imagine it’s pollen stuck to the plaster walls. that if you run your finger along it you’ll pull it away leaving a crisp line of white in its wake and a ball of fuzz at the tip of your finger.that won’t happen, taeyong has tried, but no, it’s just an old yellow paint that has probably faded over the years.





	1. i need a drink

**Author's Note:**

> VERY ANGST DRIVEN PLEASE BE WARNED! There are also hints towards eating disorders and mental illnesses. chapters with explicit mentions will have warnings

sarie’s hospital is a large, grand building that looks less like a hospital and more like a kingdom, at least, that’s what taeyong would say as a kid. it’s so much less intimidating to go get test after test done when you pretend they need your blood in magic rituals to keep the princess safe. (the princess was his nurse, a lovely young woman who always gave him a sticker). the hallways, instead of being stark white like one would imagine, are instead a pale shade of yellow, and if you think hard enough, you may imagine it’s pollen stuck to the plaster walls. that if you run your finger along it you’ll pull it away leaving a crisp line of white in its wake and a ball of fuzz at the tip of your finger.

 

 

that won’t happen, taeyong has tried, but no, it’s just an old yellow paint that has probably faded over the years.

 

 

he can also inform you not to touch the stain in the third-floor bathroom by the pediatric center, and that if you do, sterilize your hands until they’re rubbed raw. he can tell you which floors to avoid during what hours, never go into the e.r past 10 pm, and steer clear of the operating room always. he can probably give you a rundown of who all the doctors are, or at least a majority of them, and which nurses are the best to ask when you want something.

 

 

it’s not because he’s an intern or a resident, not like he sometimes imagined as a kid when his dreams of being a doctor were still alive. as morbid as it sounds, he no longer dreams at all. a side effect of his latest medication the doctor said, and taeyong doesn’t think they’re close enough for him to tell him he hasn’t dreamt since he got his diagnosis and essentially had his future flushed down the toilet, alongside all the contents in his stomach.

 

 

he still goes through the motions, he hasn’t stopped dancing, and he still goes to school. though the dancing is at a subpar studio, and sometimes in the middle of a club floor when they’re permitted a weekend out that he pretends to go to his grandparents for. school being the classes the hospital gives to every young kid and teen that has been shoved in the ‘set to die eventually’ ward. he calls it the SDE, not that it’s the official name, but he thinks it fits better than whatever the real name is.

 

 

he’s 19, so he gets less attention than the kids who are 12 or 13, just admitted, not fully accepting of their situation and taeyong is barely keeping it together at his age, so he can’t even imagine. yesterday a 10-year-old was admitted to his section, and he had to roam the halls because he couldn’t watch the family say goodbye. it’s not forever, they’ll probably visit all the time. it makes taeyong angry.

 

 

he’s roaming the halls now, fiddling with the ever-present wristband that leaves small nasty scrapes on where his bones protrude. he’s used to it, and the pain is second nature now. the one good thing is that he’s allowed to have his phone, and he texts ten to meet him in the cafeteria.

 

 

ten finds him there seven minutes later, foot up on his chair, head resting on his knee.

 

 

“do you think you can get us a weekend out by friday?” taeyong asks him, voice soft in the otherwise loud room that’s filled with patients, doctors, and the patient’s families. ten can still hear him, obvious by the way he nods and shoves a plate of food to taeyong.

 

 

“yeah, getting bored?” he asks, and it’s somewhere in between a joke and sarcasm because the hospital is always boring. his head is tilted, and his position is mirroring taeyong’s, except his head, is being supported by a hand on his knee. “me too, it’s been awhile since we were able to go out and do something other than fuck around online and play cards with the old ladies.”

 

 

taeyong couldn’t agree more, and he rubs his eyes. “i wanna get drunk and wake up somewhere that doesn’t have stickers on the walls that are who knows how old.”

 

 

he wants to have sex, but ten understands what he means because he feels the same way. it’s an itch they haven’t been able to scratch since being readmitted, roughly around the same time, three months ago. he sighs out, foot sliding down to the floor and he leans back.

 

 

“i’ll get us a weekend pass out, how much longer until you’re discharged?” ten asks, they can’t really talk about much else in the cafe, so he goes along with it. ten takes a bite of his fry.

 

 

taeyong rubs the back of his neck and stares at a girl who just sat at a table near them. “they haven’t said,” he gives as a reply, but he knows his chances of ever getting out of the hellhole that is the kingdom of st. sarie’s are slim to none. “i’m hoping soon,” he says, flashing ten a smile, who gives him one back.

 

 

somewhere in his gut, he feels a sharp pain, and he writes it off as the knowing fear that one day ten is going to be okay and get out of here and follow his dreams of being a dancer. and taeyong will be here, sitting at this same table probably, staring at someone struggle to cut their chicken. but he’ll be happy for ten. “how about you?” he asks in return after a few moments of silence.

 

 

ten gives him a dramatic huff, and munches on his fries some more. “last i heard i only have a few more weeks left, so i’ll have time for auditions.”

 

 

ten is leaving within a month that means, “that’s awesome, you know you’re totally going to get in right?” he says, wanting to encourage him. he crushes the fact that it used to be his dream under his foot.

 

 

ten gives him a look, slowly chewing whatever he had in his mouth and swallowing, “you know you could too,” he says, it’s not a question. they do dance together, taeyong has told him of what he wanted for so much of his life, and he shrugs, standing up despite the fact that his legs protest some as he does.

 

 

“i need to head back, the doctor wants to talk to me in like 20 minutes,” taeyong says, grabbing the plate of food and letting it slide in the trash, “i’ll text you though, and we can chill in my room for dinner,” he says, feeling bad for rushing off, but he doesn’t want to talk about this right now, it’s pretty much the last thing he wants. he fixes his sweatshirt, and turns, taking the walk to his room. his phone buzzes with a text when he gets there, and he smiles softly at the gif of a virtual hug that ten sends him. his eyes feel heavy and he wants to sleep, but it’s only noon and his doctor is coming to see him, so he awake he stays, staring out of the window and trying to make himself fade into the wall for a while.

 

 

♪ ♫ ♬ ゜｡ ♪ ♫ ♬

 

 

ten is able to get them a weekend out of the hospital by the next day, which is a thursday, so they were cutting it close with approval. ten tells him they can stay at him friend sicheng’s apartment, which is actually ten and sicheng’s, so taeyong has to sleep on the couch. he’s never had a place of his own. he doesn’t count the hospital bed that’s been his for nearly 2 years, on and off. sometimes he forgets that ten lived a real life before being shoved into the hospital, it makes him wonder.

 

 

taeyong spends thursday writing, scribbling down lyrics to songs that will never really be heard in his beat-up notebook. he doesn’t have an existential crisis, and his doctor tells him he seems happier today, and that maybe things are looking up. he doesn’t tell her it’s because he’s going out that weekend, though he’s sure she knows. she’s pretending as much as he is as this point.

 

 

friday rolls around and he wakes up to the sound of rain beating against the room window. he doesn’t care, ten arranged for sicheng to pick them up at 10 a.m. so up he is and in something other than sweatpants and a t-shirt as he waits in the lobby. ten bounds around the corner 2 minutes late, and taeyong has to ignore how it makes his skin itch to be late.

 

 

“sicheng says he got stuck in traffic because of the rain, and that he’ll be here soon. the first thing i’m doing is getting us some mcdonald’s!” ten says excitedly, and taeyong laughs, eyes crinkling as ten’s excitement infects him. he’s glad, and they end up laughing in the corner of the lobby about how they’re more excited for a hot shower than going out.

 

 

taeyong almost means it. the idea of a hot shower with nicely scented soaps makes his mouth water, and it’s odd, wires probably got crossed in his brain somewhere, but he’s been dealing with hospital soap for so long. he’s excited to get real human contact, and ten counts, but the 12-year-olds who won’t talk to him, and the old people he plays cards with, and the nurse that has bigger issues, don’t count.

 

 

sicheng shows up finally at 10:14, and ten and taeyong practically make a bolt for the door, worried (irrationally) that they’re going to get stopped. ten slides into the passenger seat, and taeyong into the back. he has water droplets in his hair and on his clothes but he’s grinning and greeting sicheng. they’ve met before, and taeyong likes him, he thinks they could’ve been great friends in another timeline. he ignores those thoughts as he buckles his seatbelt, this weekend isn’t for moping.

 

 

ten does make sicheng stop for mcdonald’s, and he knows taeyong isn’t going to eat it, but he orders him a 10 piece nugget meal anyway. ten is done his burger before they even real the apartment and taeyong eats a few nuggets and fries before he decides that he’s finished. sicheng gets a mcflurry only (oreo of course).

 

 

the first order of business when they get into the apartment is showering, which ten does first. it gives taeyong time to learn where everything in the apartment is, and sicheng teaches him how to use their television. ten comes out of the bathroom looking eleven times better than when he went in, and he’s dressed in his own clothes now. taeyong envies.

 

 

he takes his time in the shower, tense body uncoiling under the hot spray of water from the showerhead, and he ends up just standing there with his head resting on the wall for a space of time. he scrubs off what he imagines is hospital grime, and he washes himself of the place. He feels relief flood his system, it’s almost as good as a drug, but just like drugs, it won’t last long. he doesn’t know how long he stands there, but it must be a while because when he looks down his skin is a light pink, and he stays warm to the touch even after he steps out and dries off.

 

 

“we’re going shopping for club outfits for tonight,” ten tells him as soon as he steps out of the bathroom, and he raises an eyebrow.

 

 

“i thought you said what i had is good enough.” because he had, he told him he looked great in the jeans and button up he was going to wear, evidently that is no longer the case.

 

 

sicheng appears from behind a door, his room, holding out a pair of sunglasses for him (did they forget it’s raining) and laughs. “it’s fine, but we’re not going out to get a handy,” he gives as an explanation for them all going out to get a club outfit. it makes sense, he thinks, but not really.

 

 

he lets them drag him to a nearby mall, it’s still pouring, and into a store that clearly is selling sex toys off the back wall and his smile comes back. overthinking is going to hurt his head, and he’s been doing far too much of it lately. he has a great day, they spend hours hopping between stores and trying on clothes, and he avoids mirrors like the plague but he trusts ten when he tells him that an outfit works. he swipes the card he has for when he’s out in the real world and kicks away the reminder this is the only thing he has from his parents.

 

 

they end up getting more than one outfit, and ten tells him that he’ll need real clothes when he’s finally discharged for good. a small part of him agrees and continues to swipe away.

 

 

sicheng suggests that they make dinner at home because they’re going out right after and that it’s bad to drink on an empty stomach. taeyong has always been one for making bad decisions though.

 

 

he eats a few bites of what they do make, some sort of chicken salad, and it does taste better than hospital food. ten’s encouraging smile makes that ever-present burnt taste manageable for longer than usual. he still has to stop eating before he’s finished. he goes to apologize but bites his tongue.

 

 

they spend most of their time before heading out on getting ready, deciding which outfits to wear and the makeup to go with it. ten settles on a loose red mesh shirt and black shorts underneath. the shorts are to his mid-thigh, and taeyong admits it looks good on him, something he could probably never pull off. ten adds jewelry to it, a few rings and earrings that hang so low they nearly touch his collarbones. his make up isn’t as extravagant as taeyong thought it would turn out, just a soft pink cut crease and lip gloss, though he sees ten throwing some glitter on last minute and it makes him smile. sicheng goes with a grey and red crop top, black pants, and his makeup ends up being something straight out of a catalog, vibrant red lips, and red eyeliner. taeyong didn’t even know that was a thing. something curls around his gut as he watches them finish getting ready, and he writes it off as hunger.

 

 

the other two choose his outfit because he can’t decide. so he ends up in a white tank top, some sort of red and blue design on the front, loose fitted pants that actually hug his thighs decently. they shove a jean jacket onto him that he knows he didn’t buy, and as ten is sweeping his hair back sicheng clips on a black choker with a white plastic piece hanging off the front. he’s happy for the jacket though because it covers the tattoo that is etched onto his ribs.

 

 

“okay time to go, remember to send pics or the address if you leave with anyone,” ten reminds them as they slip out the door. taeyong’s phone is heavy in his pocket and he grins. he’s pretty sure the only one of them that’s going to be coming back to this apartment later is sicheng. that is if the night goes how all of them hope for it too.

 

 ♪ ♫ ♬ ゜｡ ♪ ♫ ♬

 

taeyong has never been afraid of hard liquor, and he knows most people look at him and think he only drinks fruity things. but the harder stuff is what lets him go on the dance floor and get in between the grinding bodies that otherwise he would run from. so he downs another shot of whatever ten and sicheng are knocking back too and shakes off the wince that goes through his whole body. he feels the sweat on his back and wants to take off the jacket, but it’s not his, and he doesn’t want to lose it.

 

 

“don’t look but there’s a guy on the other side of the bar that hasn’t stopped eye fucking you since you downed your first shot,” ten says, tone making it evident that’s a good thing. taeyong runs his finger along the rim of the shot glass, so sicheng is going to be the first to leave for the night.

 

 

his arm gets nudged by ten and he looks up confused, until ten wiggles his eyebrow and he realizes he was talking to him. “oh,” taeyong didn’t expect that.

 

 

“he’s cute,” sicheng says, “taeyong go seduce him somewhere so i can talk to his friend i think is cuter.”

 

 

taeyong came here planning to get laid, but he still feels a sliver of nervousness as he purposefully makes his eyes lidded and glances to where ten points. he makes eye contact right away, and he feels his heart start to beat faster. he’s handsome, honestly more handsome than most of the guys that taeyong hooks up with when he gets out. from what taeyong can see, he has pretty eyes, a prominent nose that tips up just slightly, and full lips. the lips split into a smile and taeyong smiles back, eyes shifting to the dance floor then back to the eyes of the other as a silent invitation. the guy doesn’t even look at his friend as he watches taeyong slip into the crowd, just saying something then following.

 

 

taeyong has played this game of cat and mouse more times than he can remember, though maybe that’s because sometimes he chooses to forget. still, he never forgets the capture. he closes his eyes, willing the crowd around him to fade away as he rolls his body to the beat of the music. he’s expecting the hands that rest on his hips, but they startle him nonetheless. he keeps his eyes closed.

 

 

neither of them says anything, for which taeyong is grateful because he wouldn’t be able to hear over his own bones vibrating to the intense bass. the guy is big, clearly way taller than taeyong himself if the way he feels plastered to his back is any indication and it makes his heart beat faster in anticipation. he rarely goes for people shorter than him, his therapist told him what that probably meant, but taeyong ignored them in favor of going about his semi-reckless lifestyle. none of that matters though, not as he feels lips ghost along the shell of his ear.

 

 

“wanna get out of here?” the low voice asks, surprisingly clear and taeyong nods and turns to get a better look at the guy's face.

 

 

taeyong has seen his fair share of handsome, he’s seen sexy, and he’s seen a lot of drop dead gorgeous, but this guy makes everyone look a little more than a flattened hazard cone. he’s so much better looking up close and if taeyong was in a romantic comedy his heart would have fluttered as he looked up at him, but this isn’t that, so he can’t say that it did. his heart may have stuttered, just so, but he’d never admit that out loud. never. “you’re gorgeous,” he states, grabbing nameless’ hand and pulling him through the crowd.

 

 

“you stole my line,” gorgeous says and it’s so dumb and cheesy and coming from anyone else taeyong would scoff and let go of his hand, but instead he actually laughs as they make their way through the door.

 

 

“i do that sometimes,” he says, not sure what he means but it feels like there’s truth to his words, so he doesn’t try to take them back.

 

 

“steal?” the still nameless guy asks, and it’s when taeyong realizes they’re standing toe to toe right in the doorway. he doesn’t move, not when this guy has a wide smile on his face and taeyong feels like if he moves something is going to change for the worse. “so what can i call you? now that i can’t call you gorgeous.”

 

 

taeyong blushes, he’s always been an easy blusher and he smirks to play it off, “taeyong, but you can honestly call me whatever you like if you whisper it in my ear,” he says, looking up through his eyelashes.

 

 

“anything you’d like.” is his reply, and the weird moment is broken and they’re in the front seat of his car on the way to his place.

 

 ♪ ♫ ♬ ゜｡ ♪ ♫ ♬

 

taeyong has an affinity for being pushed against hard surfaces, it gives him a thrill few things do, and it’s exactly what johnny ( he learned his name in the car ) gives him. that and a lot more. taeyong should’ve known to expect the best, the eyes he looked up into said it all, but he has a habit of assuming people will be mediocre, or less than, a habit he’s instilled in himself to avoid being disappointed.

 

 

disappointed he was not. he ends the night, or at least the main event for the night, on his back panting slightly as he stares at the ceiling. johnny is next to him, taking a moment the same as him and taeyong can tell there will be hickies in a few hours. he can tell that his bottom lip has a small cut in it from a particularly harsh bite. he can tell that johnny is about to pull him in close for a cuddle, and it’s the moment he rolls off of the bed and onto his feet. he doesn’t do cuddles, it’s cliche, but he doesn’t, and never has.

 

 

“i should head home,” he mumbles, crouching to gather his belongings. when he stands johnny is still on the bed, resting on his elbow.

 

 

“not a cuddler? that’s fine, you don’t have to go though, it’s only like,” he pauses and grabs for his phone, most likely checking the time. taeyong doesn’t even know where his phone went, probably on the couch somewhere. “eleven thirty. we can order food and watch tv until you sober up some.”

 

 

taeyong doesn’t usually laugh, not at things like this, but he can’t help it. “i think what you did sobered me up quite a bit,” he said, and he wants to kick himself for the bubble of pride that builds in his chest at making johnny smile so wide.

 

 

“flattery will get you everywhere.”

 

 

“i’ve already been everywhere,” taeyong shoots back, but it’s with a smile, and it makes johnny get out of bed himself now. taeyong already has his bottoms back on, and most of his top when the other towers over him.

 

 

“any interest in visiting again?” johnny asks, and he’s whispering. it’s a different whisper though, there’s no edge to it, and it does weird things to taeyong so all he can do is nod, just like the first time. he silently takes johnnys phone, putting in his number.

 

 

“i’m only free tomorrow night,” he says, and it’s a crushing reminder that his happiness is on a timer, counting down until he’s shoved back inside the life-sucking hospital. it’s fine, he’s fine, he came to terms with this life long ago.

 

 

johnny doesn’t even question why, just says that he’ll call him tomorrow and that he better answer. taeyong doesn’t do repeats, too worried someone will get attached and then hurt when he withers away and disappears for good. but still, he nods and tells johnny that if he doesn’t call he’ll have to find someone else. he would, that’s true, but he can see it’s motivation enough for johnny to call him again. and maybe he wasn’t in the mood to start all over the next night.


	2. whiskey ain't my thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pink bubblegum ♪

taeyong wakes up because ten is stumbling in through the door, giggling with sicheng about something as they set the food they bought for breakfast on the table. he sees three bags, and it makes his mouth feel like cotton that they’re still buying him food. it twists his gut that they’re spending money on him, and he plans to slip money to them later. 

 

he peels himself off of the couch and has to blink an absurd amount of times before his eyes start to properly work again. he gives the other two a wave, and as he gets a closer look he sees the bags under both of their eyes, and the line of hickies that trail down into sichengs shirt. he wasn’t the only one who had quite a night then. he may be the only one who has a giant krick in his back though, and the sharp pain seems to bounce between each of his vertebrae as he twists to stretch.

 

“it’s not raining anymore,” sicheng tells taeyong as he sits down in a chair, his lower back protesting the movement.

 

he nods as a response and ten sits down right across from him, giving him a bright smile despite the clear exhaustion that’s on his face. but taeyong supposes that he understands, sometimes the kind of exhaustion he feels is the good kind. if he hadn’t of had such a shit week at the hospital, he’d be feeling that same kind due to last night. instead he feels it bone deep, wrapping around his ribs and threatening to make him drop as he reaches for the cup of water ten slides him. he can’t tell if the feeling in his heart is the smile ten gives him, or the fact that it’s been so long since he ate.

 

taeyong brings the glass to his mouth and lets the cold water slide down his throat. it hurts, it’s just on the side of too cold but he doesn’t care, and he drains it all in one go. sicheng is laughing and it sounds like a bell, taeyong likes it. 

 

he clears his throat, a light blush of embarrassment rising to the peak of his cheeks. “so, do you guys have anything planned for today?” he asks, and as sicheng sets the food they got in front of him he prepares to tell them he isn’t hungry, but his stomach growls. he feels his face heat up more and he gives sicheng a thankful smile. he has to eat now.

 

ten gives him an encouraging smile, and sicheng follows with one of his own. he knows that ten knows his struggle, they had been friends for long enough that he saw more than one breakdown. he assumes that sicheng figured it out, and if ten was the one who told him, he can’t say he minds. his mind drifts to johnny, and the text he got when he got back to the apartment last night. 

 

“we were thinking of going to the dance studio, you know, get some real practice in,” ten answers his question, and taeyong snaps back to reality like a rubber band. his eyes shift to sicheng and then ten’s face lights up. “did i tell you that sicheng is auditioning too?” he says and sicheng rubs his neck. 

 

“oh? for dance as well?” taeyong asks his, picking up his fork gingerly and cutting into the french toast that sits in front of him. it shines with the sticky red strawberry syrup that covers it and his stomach grumbles in desire again. it’s been a long time since he’s had french toast, much less french toast covered in anything that looks as sweet as the candied strawberries. 

 

sicheng nods in confirmation, taking a bit of his own food. “yup, dance primarily but i also want to be inducted into the orchestra because i play to cello.”

 

“he’s amazing, both with dance and the cello. of course, he’s not as good a dancer as m-ow, rude,” ten says as he jolts and rubs his calf under the table and it makes taeyong laugh softly, figuring that sicheng must have kicked him. 

 

“there aren’t many that are better than you,” taeyong says, “but i’m sure sicheng is just as good,” he tells him, giving the boy in question a gentle wink.

 

he lets the two of them bicker back and forth for a few minutes as he faces down his plate. he has yet to take a bite, just cut a piece off and it sits on the end of his fork. he brings it to his mouth slowly, wrapping his lips around the metal and he has to hold back a groan at how delectable it tastes. it he chews and swallows, and his stomach hurts a bit less as he takes another bite. he pushes down the dark cloud that threatens to consume his thoughts, not yet ready to face that particular path of thought. 

 

“showers, clothes, studio,” ten says definitively, trashing his own styrofoam box that his food came in. “and then we can decide where we’re going and what we’re doing after that!” he’s excited, and it makes taeyong excited too. he loves dancing, but it’s been a long time since he has had the chance to step foot into a proper studio, the prospect is making him feel like he’s going to start buzzing. 

 

“dibs!” sicheng yells darting off toward his room to grab clothes with a grin. it confuses taeyong momentarily, it’s his house, of course he can be the first one to get into the shower. after the door to the bathroom is shut and the shower turns on ten shifts his gaze from the closed door to taeyong. 

 

“are you alright?” he asks, his voice is quiet, like he’s uttering a secret that he doesn’t want to risk being overheard, even over the soft background noise of the shower water. taeyong sets his fork down, discomfort stinging the skin on his palms. he nibbles on his lower lip, not really sure what to say.

 

“i’m okay, why?”

 

ten sighs, and taeyong has to look off to the side at the look in his eyes. it’s one of unveiled concern. “are you sure? you’ve barely eaten i just wanted to make sure.”

 

taeyong shrugs, because it’s true. as much as he tries, as long as he’s been crammed in the small box that is dungeon room he lives in, he still can’t manage to make much progress. “i’m trying.”

 

ten stands up, and comes over to give taeyong a hug from behind. his arms wrap around taeyong’s shoulders, hands gripping at them and he rests his head gingerly on top of one of his elbows. taeyong lets his own head rest back on tens shoulder, and he breathes out slowly. it’s almost a sigh. he enjoys the warmth that ten provides, a comforting weight that he’s become used to during their friendship. it’s slowly become a reminder of many things, things he’d prefer to not think about, things he lets drift gradually aware from his conscience and towards his id. it’s easier this way, it always has been. 

 

“one day,” ten starts, and his voice is quiet, and the feeling of deja vu reverberates down taeyongs body. it makes him nervous. “we’re gonna be okay, maybe not completely, but we will be. we’ll be so okay that we’re gonna make our way to stardom, show the world that it couldn’t stop us.” it’s here that taeyong closes his eyes, letting himself be cushioned by the future that ten fabricates for him. “this is just a way to prove how strong you can be. you’re going to get out with me, and we’re going to get accepted after an amazing audition, and we’re going to be happy.

 

“okay?” ten doesn’t expect an answer, he never really does when taeyong needs him to throw him a rope to tie himself back to reality, no matter how unrealistic this reality he paints may be. 

 

♪ ♫ ♬ ゜｡ ♪ ♫ ♬

 

the studio’s lights are bright and they make taeyong smile. they’re not like the harsh lights that are in the hospital, no these ones give a much warmer feeling, a soft yellow hue instead of the cold blue white light that makes everything feel somber. the entire room, with it’s scuffed wooden floor and tall mirrors that line the walls, give him an undeniable feeling of coming home. 

 

his bag makes a small pf as he drops it into the corner, far too preoccupied with examining the room and swimming in a unique moment of pure happiness to give much care to its placement. sicheng is fiddling with the radio in the corner, connecting his phone to the speakers so he can decide what music they’ll be warming up to. ten is already in the middle of the room, legs out to his sides as he stretches forward, hands helping his crawl along the ground. taeyong fixes his shirt and joins him. 

 

he had to borrow a shirt to dance in, so it’s just a bit too big for him. ten’s shoulders are a bit wider than his own, and his waist is far smaller than ten’s, so the shirt billows around him as he walks. thankfully, it’s not too large that it will inhibit his dancing at all. he doesn’t even really think that it’s that much larger than anything he’d typically dance in, but sicheng begged to differ. 

 

“taeyong, do you have a background in ballet?” sicheng asks, “i know that ten does, and so do i, so i was going to do a ballet routine for warm up and for my audition, but i don’t want you to feel left out or anything,” he says as explanation, and it makes taeyong’s chest feel warm. 

 

“i know ballet.” is his simple reply, to which ten squawks. sicheng gives him a confused look, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

 

“he says that as if he isn’t twelve times better at ballet than you and i combined and that he can’t fouette circles around us,” ten says with a scrunched up look on his face, looking accusingly at taeyong, who sits with his arms up in surrender. 

 

“don’t be dramatic, that’s not true in the slightest,” taeyong says with a laugh, and continues to do his stretches, not wanting to entertain the thought that his skills in ballet were any better than the others. he’s alright, he has potential, but he wouldn’t say he’s significantly more able. 

 

“you’ll see sicheng, he’s so good,” ten gushes, elated to be able to see taeyong do his dancing in a much more comfortable and suited environment for the act. he plans on telling sicheng of some of taeyong’s accomplishments later on. he snaps a photo of taeyong warming up after a shouted ‘smile’, posting it onto his instagram. 

 

after about thirty minutes or so stretching, they go into an hour of simple dance routines, getting themselves prepared for harder activities that will be each of their routines. taeyong itches to get his shoes out of his bag, but he rarely dances pointe around anyone. their repeated concerns that men aren’t allowed to do pointe will do nothing but irritate him. he knows that sicheng and ten wouldn’t be rude about it, ten even knows he practices that already, but his nerves prevent him from getting his shoes. he watches sicheng go through his audition piece, and his eyes memorize the movements, so he can follow suit and do it with him like ten is. he already knows ten’s piece, as he helped him create it. 

 

he stretches his foot as he waits, mind drifting to the man from the night before. he had been nice, which wasn’t necessarily anything special, plenty of his one night stands had been kind. except something about the other made his blush, shoving his face onto his knees. he was just about taeyong’s perfect type, with his pretty eyes and soft hair but a physique that made him want to slide his hands up his shirt. he even wanted to hang out with him after they were finished, which was a rarity with the guys he usually chose. he couldn’t wait to see johnny again, and made a promise to himself that he’d text him when he was finished with practice. maybe he’d even send him a selfie or something… taeyong let his thoughts wander as he stood up and began his own routine he’d been working on, adding a few extra things here and there. 

 

he closed his eyes as he slid across the floor, one foot going up to make an arch in air, the opposite arm following after it in a chase. all thoughts of the clock of freedom winding down going out of his head as he thought only of his next move and how to stitch them together to create a story. he finishes with a an almost box split, hands covering his eyes, interlocking to shield his view. 

 

soon he won’t be able to do this if his life continues in the cycle that it is, he can feel it in his entire body as he stands, stomach twisting in a dangerous warning. he takes a deep breath and lets a smile bubble up onto his face. 

 

“let’s go get something to eat maybe?” he asks, and ignores how his fingernails are biting his palm. ten looks shocked, as does sicheng, but the smile that graces ten’s face, the one that makes his heart flutter, makes it worth it.

 

“yeah, lets”

 

♪ ♫ ♬ ゜｡ ♪ ♫ ♬

 

they end up at a little cafe, the lights give off a soft pink hue that makes the color of sichengs bubblegum pink hair more ethereal looking. he thinks that sicheng is akin to a fairy, his dance movements only further cement that odd thought. the cupcakes and croissants behind the glass look like they belong confined to an instagram post instead of right in front of him. he settles on a blueberry muffin and a strawberry milk tea that’s so sweet it makes his stomach uncurl in happiness.

 

“so-” sicheng starts, taking a long sip of his own drink with a tentative smile on his face. “i ended up running into yuta of all people last night.” his tone indicates that he and yuta have met before. ten sees the confusion that appears on his face, and comes to his rescue. he smiles to himself at that thought.

 

“yuta is sicheng’s ex,” ten supplies with a half smile and a feigned annoyed eye roll.

 

“no!” sicheng denies, and then frowns so hard taeyong can only imagine that it hurts his skin. taeyong has always found that frowning causes pain, and he worries for sicheng. “he wasn’t ever my boyfriend.” he sounds disappointed at that fact.

 

“but you wanted him to be?” taeyong asks, that being the only plausible explanation for sicheng’s words. the question reminds him that he still needs to text johnny, and his hand twitches on the table as he’s tempted to reach for his phone. ten sees and raises an eyebrow, which taeyong ignores.

 

sicheng groans and rests his forehead on the table they’re sat at. 

 

“yuta ended up leaving the country to go back home, something about a sports scholarship,” ten said, and the atmosphere is quickly becoming awkward. taeyong scratches his neck and taps his fingers on the table. he really wants to just take his phone out, but he considers sicheng a friend now, and would feel weird if he said nothing. 

 

“oh… is he back? and didn’t tell you?” he asks, and immediately feels regret coil itself tightly around his ribcage. that was clearly the wrong this to say. 

 

sicheng groans again and lifts his head up, eyes scrunched up in something akin to irritation and annoyance. “that’s not it no,” he says, and taeyong waits for him to continue because there is clearly more he has to say. “apparently we still had location share on our phones and he just got back like a few hours before he found me. he met up with me as i was walking home from grabbing some noodles at the convenience store after my one night stand.”

 

sicheng flicks his straw and ten feeds him a piece of his croissant in what taeyong can only imagine is part of ten’s weird version of moral support. taeyong wasn’t even there and he can imagine that was probably pretty awkward. 

 

“how did it go?” ten asks this time, and it startles him, because he had thought ten knew what had happened already, but apparently not. 

 

“i missed him. he looked so tired, but told me about how i was the first person he came to see,” sicheng says, an taeyong gives him a half smile.

 

“that’s pretty sweet,” he tells him, and imagines someone doing that for him. whenever he usually daydreams about his perfect guy, someone who would cuddle with him when he got cold and read to him when he loses his glasses, or even someone who will cook for him because in his fantasy he had the freedom of eating whenever he wishes. now however, his mind conjures up a tall lanky body and a face with a wide smile and swooped soft hair.

 

a blush rises up to his face and he pushes it down to listen to sicheng talk about yuta, and tries his best to offer his advice. ten gives better advice than he does, and he lets himself take a backseat in the conversation. he listens, and puts his opinion in when he thinks he should. he gets pulled out of his thoughts when there’s a snap in front of his face and he scrambles as his mind tries to play catch up. 

 

“did you tune me out?” sicheng asks, mock offended as he tilts his nose up at taeyong. “rude.”

 

taeyong shakes his head, “no not at all my mind just has a tendency to drift off, i’m sorry,” he says, and his blush only gets more intense as he feels bad about actually tuning him out. 

 

“what did it drift to?” ten asks, finger poking at his cheek, “whatever it was you’re blushing.”

 

taeyong pulls at his ear, finger gliding over the earrings that he had put in their before they went out last night-the hospital doesn’t permit them because they have such a sharp point. he debates whether or not to tell them about johnny and how much he wants to see him again and decides quickly. he pulls his phone out and pulls up johnny’s contact. 

 

“the guy i met last night told me to text him, he was really… something. in a good way. but i don’t know if i want to text him or not,” he says and let’s ten take his phone from him as he gets a determined look on his face, frustrated that he couldn’t decide. he chews on his straw, his mind conjuring up scenario after scenario where texting johnny back ends up with him hurt. logically he knows it’ll mostly end up with one more great night together then taeyong never talking to him again. still, his heart hopes, as much as he doesn’t want it to. 

 

“there, now you don’t have to stress over deciding, you just have to stress over what you’re wearing to dinner,” ten says, gently tossing taeyongs phone directly at his forehead in a manner that is not gentle at all. 

 

taeyong huffs, “what the fuck ten!” rubbing his forehead, praying a bruise doesn’t form. he’d never hear the end of it from his doctors if he showed up with visible bruises. it’s as he’s rubbing the dull pain lingering on his head out that he comes to realize what ten said.

 

he scrambles then, fingers dancing across his phone screen ungracefully and it opens to a text conversation with johnny. that he didn’t have. he read over it, eyes wide as he saw that ten had messaged johnny indicating he wanted to see him again-which he did-and that he should take him for dinner. johnny had answered almost immediately, promising to pick him up around 7. 

 

taeyong is about to yell at ten again, maybe get him back by tossing his drink in the bin, when his phone buzzes, prompting him to blush and check to see what johnny said. 

 

“i’m going to be upset at you later,” he tells ten as he becomes distracted by the questions that johnny begins to ask him-after he gets his address of course. 

 

taeyong spends the rest of the afternoon trying to stave off the heated nervous blush that remains on his face until they step outside. johnny is even sweeter than the drink that taeyong was drinking, and doesn’t seem to be pushing taeyong when he brushes off questions that would lead to answers that were too personal. after a few questions about his family, johnny had promised not to bring it up again, and instead turned to conversation to what taeyong is passionate about. taeyong in turn found out that johnny is currently a student at the university ten is applying to as a music production major and when he learns that it feels like thorns are gripping his chest. he pretends like he doesn’t think it’s a sign and regrets getting the food at the cafe.

 

it’s drizzling as they leave the cafe and make their way to the trains, their bags covering their heads to avoid their hair and glasses (in ten’s case) from getting wet. the shine has turned to gloom and everything has a dull gray hue to it as they pass. it’s all a blur for taeyong, who ends up with his headphones in responding to johnny’s messages as they sit on the fraying red seats of the train. his hand curls around the silver stability pole as he watches to rain drops race each other down the window, the beat of his song echoing in his ears. 

 

♪ ♫ ♬ ゜｡ ♪ ♫ ♬

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments maybe?

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? comments maybe?


End file.
